Cuckoldklok
by Lassroyale
Summary: There's something going on behind the closed door of Charles' office – and Nathan's pissed it doesn't involve him.  **A/N: This is unabashed and unapologetic CRACK!FIC**


**CuckoldKlok**

**-VVV-**

Nathan was on a somewhat drunken quest for a midnight snack, when he heard the distinct sound of Offdensen's voice drift from his office down the hall. He paused, considered sticking his head in and seeing if Charles was interested in a snack too, and decided to say: "Fuck it." The call of cool ranch Doritos was just too great to ignore. He turned back towards the kitchen, wondering if those little packets of powdered cheese for macaroni could be used to make nachos, when a second voice floating down the hallway stopped him cold in his tracks.

"I keeps ams tryings, but I ams thingkings its ams too bigs to be fittingks in my mouths."

The sound of Swisgaar's voice was un-fucking-mistakable...and it was coming directly from Charles' office.

At least a dozen terrible thoughts immediately filled Nathan's head, most of which started with: "Oh my god, Charles and Swisgaar!" and ended with: "Wait, _I'm_ the only one who's supposed to be fucking the manager!"

And Nathan was really proud of that, to be honest – it wasn't like getting Charles into bed had been easy. In fact, the singer had had to actually _work_ at getting the other man into bed, and, as a general rule, Nathan hated anything that resembled that stupid four letter word. As far as four-letter words went, 'work' was pretty much as un-metal as they came. (Really though, he hated work mostly because it's what Charles was _always_ doing, and Nathan had learned the hard, blue-balled way that Charles was perfectly capable of withholding sex when something came between him and his work.)

And Charles could go for like, a _really_ long time without sex. It sucked.

Nathan sulked for another several minutes, his mind sluggishly mulling over how much enjoyed Charles' sucking (which then led to unwanted images of Swisgaar sucking Charles), when he heard: "Why don't you ah, try to relax your jaw a bit?"

Nathan scowled and began to edge down the hall, pushed by a sense of morbidly brutal curiosity to actually go and see for himself just what the fuck was going on. As he drew closer to Offdensen's office, the conversation became clearer.

"Likes this?" came Swisgaar's voice, low and muffled. "Ams I be doings it correctedly?"

There was a pause, then, "Ah, yes. Just like that. Very good Swisgaar."

The hulking singer grimaced and punched a Klokateer who was passing him in the hallway. The hooded Gear crumpled to the floor and painfully gasped, "I'm sorry I displeased your Lordship," as Nathan stepped around him.

Several long, excruciating minutes passed before one of them spoke again, and by that time Nathan had reached Charles' door and was standing with his ear pressed so hard against it that it hurt. The two Klokateers on either side of the door studiously ignored him for a moment, before moving surreptitiously a way's down the hall - away from the temper tantrum that their Lord Explosion seemed bent on working himself into. Nathan heard movement on the other side of the door and he jammed his ear harder against it . He grumbled; he was beginning to get a headache.

"It ams too wets," announced Swisgaar. He sounded a little put-out, like he was pouting. Nathan grit his teeth - _he_ was the only one allowed to pout at Charles! Uh, not that he pouted of course; pouting was very _un_-metal.

"Try and keep your head down for as long as you can," Charles replied.

There was a sound like…water? And then Swisgaar whined: "It still ams nots fittinkgs insides my mouths!" He sounded frustrated. Nathan wanted to punch something – again.

"Just use your teeth to gently scrape along the outside. Right, that's good – just like that. Now use your lips. Perfect. Good ah, good technique."

"It ams gettingks on my hair!"

"Here, I'll hold your hair back for you."

There was a bit more movement, a little more frantic now – or at least Nathan thought – and then Swisgaar exclaimed: "Ungh, dese ams tastings likes dems dildos!"

"Well, I suppose that it's an, ah, well what one would call an _acquired_ taste."

"Ja, I'll say."

"Why don't you go and get yourself cleaned up?"

Nathan was about to bolt away from the door and run and hide somewhere so he could wallow in self-pity and beer, when Charles' next words made his stomach drop straight through his feet like an anvil. "Murderface, why don't you go next? Just kneel right there and I'll be right with you."

"I schtill schthink thish ish all kinda gay," grumbled Murderface.

Nathan was stunned. Murderface? Fucking _Murderface?_ Charles was cheating on him with Swisgaar and ungh, _Murderface_? He felt a little sick.

"Oh Charlies, if ams Murderface is too chickens to do its, I'll do's it agains! I likes it!"

Nathan gaped at the door: Toki too? "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he howled, long and loud and really fucking metal, if he did say so himself.

The door opened suddenly and Pickles stuck his head out. After a second or two, he was able to focus blearily on Nathan, who stood there staring at the drummer, his mind numb with shock. "Oh hay Nat'an," slurred Pickles, a sloppy grin spread across his face. "I fahrgot I was'posed ta find ya earlier!" The red head stepped back, teetering precariously for a moment before sweeping his arm in a wide arc as he gestured inside. "Ahffdensen's teachin' us how ta bob fer apples, 'cause it's Halloween 'an stuff."

Nathan could only stare directly at Charles, who stood in the center of the room by a large metal tub filled with water and ruby red apples. Murderface was kneeling in front the tub and staring at the apples in a disturbing way, like he wanted to strangle them or something. Toki waved cheerily at him from nearby, his hair sopping wet. Swisgaar stood next to Toki and was telling him how much better at, "Mouth fishingks for dem appleks things," he was than Toki – as usual.

"Bobbing for…uh…apples?" asked Nathan, stupidly.

Charles arched a brow in a perfect expression of absent curiosity. "Yes Nathan, I was teaching the boys here how to bob for apples, per their request." He smoothed his fingers down his red tie, and, without missing a beat added crisply: "I had arranged for ah, a more _private_ lesson between you and I later." Charles looked up at Nathan over the rim of his glasses in that coy little manner that made Nathan want to shove him right over the desk and fuck his brains out. "Would that be acceptable?"

"Uh, yeah," said Nathan, regaining some of his senses now that the idea of getting laid had taken root - and relief that Charles was not cheating on him with the rest of the band – flooded through him. "Fuck yeah!" he shouted, with more enthusiasm.

"Good," said Charles. He turned back to Murderface and pushed the bassist's head down into the tub of apples and water. "Now William," chided Charles evenly, when Murderface began to flail, "remember to relax your jaw and open your throat…"

(The End.)


End file.
